Blind Spots

Last Sunday night at church a guest preacher made a statement that really resonated with me regarding our spiritual complacency. He implored the congregation to search our hearts and to pray and ask God to remove any blind spots that we may be inadvertently harboring. Regarding my spiritual condition, I’m pretty self-aware of my flaws and sins. As a church-goer who sits on a pew three times a week, I kind of have to be as I get convicted quite often of sins that I openly commit and the secret sins of the heart. I battle them daily and make no pretense that I am anything but a wicked wretch undeserving of anything. If you were to line me up with every member of the congregation and ask me to rank myself in terms of godliness and holiness, I would automatically without thought go to the end of the line. I know my weaknesses and struggles. I know flaws that I possess which make me ashamed. I know that I have to work on those every single day, and as long as I breathe, I’ll never get to the place where I have “arrived.” God’s still working on me. My spirit may be willing, but my flesh is oh, so weak.

With all of the unrest and turmoil unfolding in our nation in the wake of the murder of George Floyd one week ago, I have been deeply burdened about how I may be unwittingly contributing to the racism that continues to be rampant in our nation. I have searched my heart all week and struggled with thoughts and feelings as I have tried to come to terms with what I have seen on various news outlets and social media. I have wondered what my blind spots are. Unlike my spiritual condition regarding things like bitterness, unforgiveness, envy, wrath, anger, greed, malice, gluttony, etc. I consider myself to be a good person in the world’s view. I pay my taxes, go to work, take care of my family, give to charities, try to help those in need, and generally aim to be a decent human.

In doing so, I “see color” all around me. Anyone who claims to do differently is either lying or blind. I live in the Upstate of South Carolina. We are predominantly white, but in my neighborhood alone I have African-American, Russian, and Cuban neighbors directly across from and beside me. I have taught children of multiple races and ethnic groups while spending 15 years teaching in public schools. I went to college and graduate school with some of my closest friends not looking like me. I would like to think that racist and prejudicial thoughts and actions are not something that I harbor. However, I am beginning to recognize that unlike my spiritual awareness, the societal image that I view of myself and portray to others may not be so clear. I may have blind spots. I may do and say things at times that are hurtful because I lack awareness or understanding. I am trying to be more aware of my actions and words so that I can be the best example to my girls. I want them to love others and treat others as they would themselves. I want them to show kindness and love to everyone, regardless of our differences.

Here’s where I’m struggling, though. I’m white. I’ve always been white and will always be white. I was born that way. I can’t change it. It’s who I am and how God made me. I have been absorbing and processing as much as I can regarding racial tensions in our country for the past week and it has left me feeling like I should somehow be ashamed of being white or apologize for it. I am trying to truly understand where the hurt and anger are coming from across our nation to the point where violent acts are being committed and excused. I feel the frustration and anger to some degree, of course, as a human being. The video of Mr. Floyd struggling to breathe and the heartless actions of a cop lacking in humanity is haunting. It deeply saddens me that it happened. Of course I am angry about it, but it’s different from so many of my friends’ feelings. I am trying to understand where they are coming from but struggle because of my “white privilege”. I haven’t encountered the oppression and the “systemic problems” that have plagued our society with regard to race. I have other struggles, but not those. I don’t feel qualified to address any of it, because I’m “just white” and “will never get it.” I’m trying, though. I really am.

Here’s the thing. We live in a day and time where it’s so easy to distort facts and figures. I have literally watched the same news clips of various happenings throughout our nation on multiple news outlets, and depending on the station and anchors, you get a totally different sense of what you are seeing with your own eyes based on their divisive commentaries. One station does nothing but stress the peaceful protests and blames any of the riotous activities that occur as being started by white supremacists. Any chance they get to blast the words and actions (or lack thereof) of our president, they do. Another station does nothing but show the looting and rioting, and after watching clip after clip of stores being demolished and cops being verbally and in some cases, physically attacked, they make comments offhand about how not all of the protests have been volatile. Only problem is you don’t see the same amount of footage of those peaceful protests. All you really see are the violent ones. Their narrative is different, too, as the president can do no wrong. It’s disgusting, really, that we don’t have stations without agendas. We are shown videos and then have to listen to so-called “experts” spin whatever it is so that we can understand it, because they apparently are under the assumption that we lack discernment and the mental fortitude to come to our own conclusions. All it leads to is confusion. I try to be educated about current events, but honest to God, it’s hard to get actual facts about anything. Numbers and statistics can all be manipulated. If the dang coronavirus has taught us nothing else, it’s that.

My FB news feed alone is enough to give me a headache. Memes, quotes, stories, articles, videos, etc. are being shared that further illustrate the narrative that my friends are trying to push, but I am especially trying to be attentive to what my black friends are sharing. I recently took a personality test that overwhelmingly characterizes me as being an Enneagram 9 – some of my traits are peace-making, being a devil’s advocate, and displaying empathy. Good grief, this has been made very apparent the past seven days. I read one thing, totally agree with it, then read a contrasting view, and agree with it, too. I literally see both sides to nearly every argument made. It’s exhausting. In doing so, I am continually asking myself if my “white privilege” is showing…what can I do to “fix it”, and how can I show love to people of color who are struggling on a level that I never will in times like these? It’s hard. I don’t have answers. But you know what? Neither does anyone else. Yep, I said what I said (or wrote what I wrote). Let me explain.

In all of the rants, finger-pointing, history lessons, and quotes, not ONE person has offered a solution. Everybody wants change but nobody can articulate what it looks like. Oh, people want a new president. OK, fine. I get that, but racism and police brutality didn’t start with Donald Trump coming into office 4 years ago. The other alternative for president is a candidate who has been in elective office for decades. Change may come at the ballot box, but that’s 5 months from now. Furthermore, what am I supposed to do as an individual about corruption in the police dept? Every police officer that I personally know is good and decent. I don’t know them all, I’m sure there are bad apples in the bunch, but I refuse to condone behaviors that attack all because of the actions of some. We are told as educators not to do that- it’s one of the first things ingrained in us. You will inevitably lose respect and will find it hard to build trust and rapport.

I’m hearing what my friends of color are saying, but I don’t know how to fix any of it other than focus on the good. There is so much good. I know so many amazing and incredible people who look nothing like me but we all bleed the same. While the news and media outlets fight to get their narratives across, I will do my best to sift through what they want me to see and look around to what I actually see. All I can do is focus on what I know to be true, and focus on bettering me, myself, and I while trying to instill values in my girls that reflect the love of Christ for all people. I don’t have answers or solutions to anything else. I can read books all day, but because I see both sides of everything, it still leaves me in a place where I have more questions than answers. I appreciate those who have shared resources- I will try to take advantage of those. That’s my first step to recognizing my blind spots. It’s all I can do for now, and it’s definitely nothing profound, but it’s a start.

While thinking of what I know to be good and true and honest, I have been reflecting on some very special people and influences in my life and would like to share ten of those with you here on the blog. Here are people of color who have inspired me, taught me lessons far greater than those found in books, and loved me through some of the best and worst days of my life. Because of them, my life has been exponentially blessed and enriched.

1. Mrs. Tucker, my 3rd grade teacher. She was a tough one, that Mrs. Tucker, but she pushed me academically and was one of my first cheerleaders. She let me teach a science lesson at the back table of her classroom one day, and I still remember showing my peers what happens during a chemical change. That was over 25 years ago! She trusted me and had faith in me, and I have never forgotten it.
2. Dr. Beryl Brooks, principal of Lone Oak Elementary School during 4th and 5th grades. I remember her walking into our classroom and introducing herself as Dr. Brooks. She carefully explained that she wasn’t a medical doctor which blew my mind. She was a female doctor of education, and I loved that. When I won the spelling bee, she transported my teacher and me to another school for the district competition and I remember thinking how special it was that I got to ride with Dr. Brooks. I didn’t win that day- I misspelled the word “mortar”- she hugged me through my tears and told me she was still so proud of me and that I represented our school well. Her words of affirmation and pursuit of higher education as a minority female stuck with me.
3. Lakeisha, a black friend of mine in the 6th grade. We had the same first name but with a different spelling. There was a group of black girls who bullied me in the 5th grade and it carried over into the 6th at a new school…I never really knew their reason, but they were mean. I would come home many times from school upset about things they said about me and the lies they were spreading. One day as I was dressing out for PE, I walked around the corner of the locker room and overheard some of those girls talking about me. I was scared and frozen in my spot. All of a sudden, Lakeisha’s voice rang clear as she came to my defense. That was all it took. The other girls backed off. Lakeisha taught me the importance of standing up and being a voice for someone who can’t or chooses not to speak up for themselves.
4. Veronica Hughes- a college friend. She was pregnant while we were in undergrad and odds were stacked against her to finish. She and I were part of a group of students who visited a local elementary school to mentor young, at-risk girls and they especially looked up to her. Veronica accomplished her goals, faced adversity, and took time to invest in others. She and I differ a lot regarding politics, but she and I are “soul sisters” who love each other and respectfully agree to disagree on a lot of things. She has taught me that we’re actually more alike than different.
5. Kameron Phifer- a former student. She came to the funeral when we lost Carter, and she came to my house after the birth of Carlen. She texts me from time to time and keeps me updated on her life. She is hard-working, intelligent, and one of the most caring and compassionate young people that I know. She has taught me that a teacher’s influence isn’t limited to the walls of a classroom. She has sought me out on various occasions which has shown me that my actions as her teacher built trust. What a gift! When I return to the classroom, it will be because of students like her…she is what brings joy to a teacher’s heart.
6. Brandon Thomas- a former student. I taught him early on while at Dorman. He was huge and hardly ever said a word. I think I had him as a senior, and you could tell that Spanish 2 wasn’t his favorite, but he never complained…just quietly did what I asked him to do. He went on to play for Clemson and was drafted into the NFL. Much to my amazement, after the passing of Carter, a beautiful green plant arrived at the house, and the card expressed deep sympathy for my loss. It was from Brandon. This grown man, who had the whole world at his feet, took the step to send his former teacher something to acknowledge her loss and show that he cared. That plant just so happened to have a little paper blue butterfly in the center of it. The Lord used that symbol as my first sign from heaven that all was well with my boy. That photo is the image that I use as the header for this blog. Brandon taught me that little acts of kindness can have far more impact than we can even begin to fathom.
7. Shay Rice and Thomas Brooks – administrators at the high school where I taught for 12 years. My last year at Dorman was rough- I was grieving and didn’t handle normal stresses of the job well. It all came to a head at the end of the school year in 2018 (scroll to the blog post entitled “Failure” if you’d like the backstory). I blamed a lot of my frustration on a lack of leadership and administrative support in my exit interview. Both of these individuals reached out to me and apologized. They didn’t have to do that. I was leaving the school, they weren’t going to be interacting with me any longer, and it would have been very easy for them to just brush me off. They didn’t, and it taught me the importance of acknowledging one’s faults and owning mistakes.
8. Cornelius Huff, my neighbor. He overslept the morning that I discovered Carter and was at home when my husband called him from work frantically asking him to please come to the house and be with me until the paramedics could arrive. “Cornchip” as he is called, was a paramedic also and went upstairs to assess the situation and make the call to his colleagues that Carter was gone. He comforted Caroline and me, called our pastor, and opened up his home to us while the emergency personnel and police did what was necessary. He’s the mayor of our town, devotes his time and resources to mission work, and loves on our family throughout the year. He and his wife, Erin, came to Carlen’s baby dedication at our church and their picture is displayed on our family tree wall in the living room. Cornchip has taught me the value of showing up and making one’s presence known in good times and bad. There’s really no substitute for it.
9. Mr. Skinner- Nana’s neighbor. This man has been such a blessing to my Nana as she has struggled a lot since coming home from assisted living last year after her stroke. He’s an ex-con and can be scary when he has to be (he kicked my dad out of the house when he refused to leave), but is good as gold and calls to check on “Mrs. Shirley” often and keeps an eye on her house for any suspicious activity. When he came one night at the restaurant where I work to pick up food to take to her, I thanked him for all that he was doing to help. He told me that he had made a promise to my Papa to look out for Nana if something ever happened, and that he would always do so in honor of the word he gave to my Papa. Mr. Skinner has taught me the value of keeping one’s word.
10. Brandy O’Neal- a former classmate. She keeps me laughing on the regular with her posts and comments on FB. She’s constantly calling out deadbeats and losers and takes no crap from anyone. She owns her own business, holds her two children to a high standard, and lays down the law. She and her husband are a team. They respect each other and make no excuses for how they live. Brandy is fierce and a force to be reckoned with. She will not tolerate nonsense and calls a spade a spade. She has taught me the value of being brutally honest. She gets away with a lot of what she says because she’s hilarious and practices what she preaches. You can do and say a lot when you are your authentic self.

In closing, I can’t help but be burdened by what the pandemic and civil unrest are doing to affect the mental health of our most vulnerable. A dear lady who spoke at the Out of the Darkness Suicide Awareness walk the year after we lost Carter ended her life last week. She of all people knew that help was available and exactly what those resources were. She will be laid to rest on Thursday and I can’t help but think that many more suicides will result as our country struggles with so much loss and injustice. It’s especially hard to cope with anxiety and depression when you are inundated with negativity, hurtful discourse, and a sense of hopelessness and helplessness. It is important now more than ever that we be mindful of our words and speak love and kindness every chance we get.

Be aware of your blind spots. Think for yourself, take in various viewpoints, and do the hard things like saying you’re sorry and recognizing when you can do better. As you do all of these things, remember that you can’t control everyone else, but you can control your thoughts and actions.

Be the good, focus on the good, and promote the good. Maybe if we all strive to do these things, actual good will come from evil and healing will sweep our land. That is my hope for America.

Today’s blog picture shows my sweet boy with two of his friends in a photo booth at a school function. Three boys- one white, one Hispanic, and one black. My boy loved everyone. As always, he continues to teach me and inspire me to do better. Proud as always to be his Mama.